


No Second Chance

by mafkaast



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Death, Depression, Fluff, Gay, Hate, Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Internal homophobia, Love, M/M, Mentioned One Direction, Sad, Self-Loathing, Strength, break-up, but sweet sort of, eternal love, faggot, fears, kiss, life - Freeform, sad end, self-hate, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mafkaast/pseuds/mafkaast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>5 years ago the band broke up and so did Harry and I.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little one shot and I have to say I think it's a very sad one, but it also has positivity in it.
> 
> I sometimes do think that Louis feels somewhat depressed or anything, but nothing as huge as you will read in here.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, please tell me!

“Flight to Los Angeles, flight number 12790, will aboard now.” I hear a female voice call. I immediately stand up from my seat, my ticket pressed tight into my hand. I walk towards the desk, along with a few other – very excited – people. I wait in the line and try to ignore the sounds around me. The sound of laughter, the sound of joy, the sound of life.  
“Welcome.” A flight attendant says to me happily when I enter the end of the line. A few years ago her voice would have bothered the hell out of me, it would have made me so angry inside. I hated it when I saw happiness around me. It consumed me, but I didn’t feel it. It was all around me, but I didn’t feel it. But now I don’t even really notice it anymore. I hear it, but it just goes right through me. I feel so empty inside most of the time.  
“Sir, can I have your ticket please?” The woman asks polite, still a smile plastered on her face.  
“Oh right.” I shake my head and give my crumbled ticket.  
For a slight second I can see her frown, but she immediately goes back to her fake, plastered smile.  
“Thank you sir, hope you enjoy your flight.” And she gives my ticket back to me.  
I just nod, not able to speak.  
As I enter the plane I see a male flight attendant, with a same sort of smile on his face. “Welcome aboard, can I have your boarding pass?”  
I nod and give it to him.  
“Okay, just walk towards the end. Your seat is on the right. I hope you enjoy your flight.” He points the direction and gives me a polite nod.  
I don’t give him any reaction and just walk towards my seat.  
As I sit down my mind travels back to times I wasn’t so blunt, when I didn’t feel so sad, angry, weak and mostly empty. When did this happen? Why did this have to happen?  
When I was younger, around 16 years old, I was an energetic, loud and flamboyant boy and I was okay with that. I even called myself flamboyant and embraced it. I liked the way I was and I felt comfortable with myself. People, mostly friends and family, in my hometown Doncaster let me be who I was. They liked it or at least they didn’t care about the way I dressed, talked or acted. I always dressed colorful or as you might call it; gay. I wore colorful, tight jeans and shirts with stripes along with braces. I knew I might be gay, but I just didn’t care. I was who I was and I and other people accepted me for who I was.  
Since One Direction that changed. People suddenly hated me for it. The people who supposedly supported me called me ‘uber’ gay or a fairy and posted pictures where I was wearing a tutu or showed pictures with my ‘gay wrist’ and stuff like that. They said things that really hurt me. I know it shouldn’t have bothered me but it did. I suddenly felt like they treated me like some delicate gay thing, while I still was in the process of finding out who I exactly was. In Doncaster I was at ease because people didn’t care about me. I wasn’t ready for people to judge me. But since One Direction everybody suddenly had an opinion about me. When someone said I was gay other fans got offended and told that them that I wasn’t a ‘faggot’, I was normal. Other people, outside the fandom who hated the band or just plainly me, called me a faggot or a sissy.  
In the beginning it was all okay; it was even more than okay. I had four new best mates and Harry became even more than a friend. It was amazing. We had our first tour Up All Night and back then I was madly in love with Harry. I just had so many amazing times with the fans, the boys and mostly with Harry. Management wanted me to be the loud and funny one. I could mostly be myself, or at least how I was back then. Of course they already had some rules for us, but it was okay, I could handle it.  
But the more our success increased the more I felt uncomfortable and lonely. While the others, with the time growing, became more comfortable with themselves. They became more outgoing and confident. They kept growing taller and I kept being tiny. I hated it. I absolutely hated it. I hated how people called me little, tiny and delicate. And with all the hate, the fakeness and the lying I was slowly starting to hate myself.  
“Welcome aboard to the LA SUN and thank you for flying with us. We’re committed to making your flight safe and comfortable. So before we depart we’ll show a brief safety presentation, this information can help you if there is an emergency, so pay close attention.” A flight attendant calls as she starts the safety demonstration and I slowly start to drift off again.  
With Harry it was quite the opposite. Since the very beginning he was everyone’s favorite, including mine. He had everything to be a pop star. He had the looks with the curls and the dimples and even when his famous curls faded people still obsessed over his hair one way or another. Besides that he had the name for it and of course he had the charms. He charmed everyone around him, no matter who they were. The way he handled the fans and media at such an early age marveled me. It still does. He handled everything so perfectly.  
Since the beginning Harry told me he was at least bisexual and probably gay, but he could still easily flirt with girls. Because of the fact that he was everyone’s favorite and he could charm the hell out of anyone, he was set to be the womanizer. I hated it for several reasons. First of all I hated that he got all the attention. Well in the beginning that was. Yeah I know it’s stupid to be green, but jealousy is so easy. Secondly I fucked hated it that everyone touched him and claimed him as his when he actually was mine and mine only. And lastly I hated the fact that people saw him as the Alpha gay and I was the princess/flamboyant one. It was all just so fucked up and things became even worse when I had to ‘date’ Eleanor. She was a nice girl, but acting like I was in a serious relationship with a girl took away a part of me. I felt like I disappointed myself, my family, my friends and my fans. It became such a burden on my shoulder. I was always the one who took care of others. Before One Direction I always took care of my little sisters, I looked after my mother since her divorce and I always was a devoted friend. I once again took that role when One Direction formed.  
People in the fandom mostly saw me as the loud and funny one, but in reality I was so much more than that. I was there for everyone. I was the oldest, the most confident and I kept the band together. When they felt nervous I supported them. When they felt awful because of hateful comments I was a shoulder to cry on. I was always there for everyone, but almost no one was there for me. Harry was, or at least in the beginning. He made me feel happy and loved and he cared for me so deeply. But as time went on we grew apart. I felt more uncomfortable with myself and I started to act and dress different. I didn’t want people to call me a fag, or a queen or sissy. I couldn’t play football on Doncaster Rovers without people yelling ‘cocksucker’ or ‘brown worker’. It did hurt me within the deepest of my heart and my heart slowly became like a black hole. I started to hate the fact what I was, who I was. I hated being gay. I hated being me.  
Harry on the other hand became more comfortable with himself and the fame. Most people around him knew he was gay and he wasn’t very quiet about it. He still accepted the ridiculous deception with a smile because we needed to, but other than that he was himself.  
We couldn’t tell the world we were gay and we especially couldn’t tell that we were together. Of course it did hurt him as well. He was mostly upset when people saw him as a villain and a womanizer, but other than that he became better. He felt better and I fell apart. We fell apart.  
People always assumed that I started to change because of management. And I think that’s partly true. Management did forbid Harry and me to hang out in public and they did advise me to ‘tone down my behavior’. In other words: stop being so gay. Modest believed that it could hurt the band if we told the world we were gay. People didn’t understand under how much pressure we were. We weren’t just a band who played some music, we were a brand. We were some sort of dolls, puppets. Modest and other people around us were our puppet masters and they tried to make the most money out of us as possible. We were a billion dollar boy band and they wouldn’t take any risks to make us less successful.  
When I look back at those times I feel like I should have changed things. Sometimes I even wish that One Direction never existed. But I know I don’t really want that, because that would mean I didn’t have Harry, Zayn, Liam and Niall. Although I haven’t seen them in years, mostly because of my depression, they will always have a special place in my heart. Since a few years I feel almost nothing, but I still feel love for all of them. That will never go away. I just don’t love myself anymore.  
I slowly drift in a restless sleep, thinking about Harry.  
“Hmm sir? We have arrived at LAX airport.” I look up in shock; I’ve completely ignored the world around me. This time the flight attendant doesn’t have his fake smile on his face, he looks at me with a worried look.  
“Okay.” I mumble tiredly and stand up from my seat.

\----------------

“Who is there?” A voice speaks through the speaker.  
“It’s Louis.” I say, and without further notice the gate opens.  
I haven’t been in this house for over 4 years. Harry bought it 7 years ago, in 2014. When we were in One Direction he often needed to go to LA for ‘business’ and he grew to love it there. Without telling any of us he bought a place and I was furious. Why did he bought a place? He already had a place in London. With me. He told me it was easier that way and that he still would do everything to be in London as often as he could. I truly believed he tried, at least in the beginning. But after a time he went over there, more and more.  
5 years ago the band broke up and so did Harry and I. He left our house in London and moved to LA. That’s when everything really changed. Beforehand I drowned in my self-loathing, but it was manageable because I still had my job that required impossible hours, weeks and months and I even had Harry. Sort of. It wasn’t the same as in the beginning. It wasn’t as lovely, but at least there was still love. When all of that vanished, so did my life. My life suddenly didn’t have any meaning. My life was suddenly empty and lonely and because of that I started to think. Nonstop. The thinking increased my self-loathing and I started to form a heavy depression and even irrational fears started to kick in. I became more absent and only went out of the house when it was absolutely necessary. After a year or so I didn’t even dare to come out of Harry’s and mine house anymore. Yes, I still lived in that house and I kept the nameplate Lou & Hazza on the front door. It was my way of hurting myself even more for everything that I did.  
To be honest I sort of loved the self-hate, it was my way of punishing myself. I completely shut down everyone around me. Everyone from the band and crew, my other friends and even my own family. Basically everyone that I loved. After a while I just went through life without really feeling, without really caring. I just was. I didn’t live. That was until one day my mother sent me to a private psychiatric hospital to recover.  
I did everything in my power to stop from recovering. I made it a living hell for everyone around me for at least 3 months. After those months I slowly started to increase for the better, but that didn’t feel right in any way. I started to develop panic attacks because I was so worried to get better. They gave me medication for my attacks and it slowly made me feel less. I wasn’t scared, angry of anxious anymore, but I also couldn’t feel any love or happiness.  
I still have my medication, even though it’s a lower dose, and I still feel rather flat. But for me it’s okay. My mother thinks I’m okay, but internally I still hate myself. She just can’t see it anymore because I barely show any emotion.  
As I walk towards the entrance a small guy opens the door for me. “Welcome Louis, come in please.”  
“Do you want something to drink or?” He offers polite.  
I shake my head. “I want to see Harry.”  
He nods understandingly. “Follow me please.”  
I follow him upstairs and I can feel that my palms are sweaty and my heartbeat is rising. I haven’t seen him since he left London. Since he left me.  
The butler, or whatever, opens the door for me and motions me to enter. I carefully step place in the bedroom.  
I walk towards his bed and gape at the sight in front of me. It feels like all of my emotions suddenly rush through my veins. “Haz.” I say, my voice breaks at his name.  
“Lou.” He says quietly and smiles softly. I walk towards the bed and suddenly notice his pale and sort of yellow face and his tiny figure. He has lost a lot of weight. His eyes are almost completely yellow and it’s extremely terrifying. He looks so sick, extremely sick. He looks even worse than I imagined when I heard the news.  
Seeing him like this makes me ache. It’s hurts so bad, but at the same time my love for him grows intensely. I feel more in this very minute than I have felt in the last couple of years. Why him? Why did he have to get sick? Why does he have to die? It’s so unfair and it literally breaks me. I wish everything was different.  
“I love you.” I say with tears streaming down my face. “I still love you.” It’s the truth. I might have stopped loving me, but I never stopped loving Harry and as I see him now all I want is to be with him.  
“I love you too Louis, I’ve never stopped loving you. But you did stop loving you and it hurts me. I don’t want to see you like this.” His voice is so deep, but this time I don’t enjoy it. It’s so deep, but soft because it takes so much energy to talk. He breathes very heavily and I’m scared that every moment will be his last.  
“Why you? Why couldn’t it be me? This is so unfair!” I say between sobs.  
“It’s okay, I’ve accepted it. I’ve lived my life in the fullest way possible. I’ve met you, my soul mate, the love of my life and I’ve been all around the world with my four best friends. I’m almost complete.”  
I can’t believe how he feels about this. He is so optimistic. I take his hand, which feels dry and ice cold. It makes me shiver.  
“Why almost?” I ask as I look into his yellow eyes.  
“Because you are broken.” He says with sadness in his voice.  
I inhale a sharp breath. This takes me by surprise. He left me, he left me because I didn’t want to live anymore. I didn’t want to be me anymore and I pushed him away. I pushed my love away because I hated myself. And sadly he did.  
“You need to live Louis, you need to make something of your life.” He says with a serious expression. With all the strength he has left he pinches in my hand and gives me a weak smile.  
I cry even harder. “I don’t want to be without you. Not again! I couldn’t handle it the first time, how can I handle it again?” I say between hiccups. My heart is pounding in my chest and it feels like someone is stabbing me with knives all over my body. I can’t lose him. Not again.  
“I can’t!” I scream desperately.  
“You are so strong Louis. You have always been so strong for everyone, now it’s time to be strong for you. Please Lou, love yourself, the way I love you.”  
“I will fight Haz, I will do it for you.” I say as steady as possible between my tears. If this is what Harry wants, I will do it. I will live, for him. For my only love.  
“No.” he says firmly and he shakes his head as far as possible. “You need to do it for you. Because you are worth it, you need to see yourself the way I see you.”  
“As you used to see me.” I say in defeat. I’m no man to be proud of. I’m a broken mess, I’m worthless.”  
“That’s where you wrong, you are still the same. In here.” He points to my heart. “You just don’t see it anymore.”  
I can’t react to his words, I can only cry in response. I wish I could see me as he apparently sees me. I know people told me that I was Harry’s life, but I couldn’t believe it. How could he love someone who was so loathsome? So sad? A faggot?  
But now as I look into his eyes I see it’s the truth. He did love me, he still does. I just couldn’t see it because I hated myself.  
“Why? Why couldn’t you save me?” I ask in panic. If he only made me see it five years ago this might never happened. We could still be together and Harry wouldn’t continue drinking. Right? He needed to save me, because I couldn’t. I couldn’t save me, because I didn’t want to be saved. I wanted to be damaged.  
“Because only you can save yourself.”  
I move even closer to Harry, my hand still rubbing his cold hand. I softly kiss his lips, it’s a bittersweet kiss. “You are my soul mate and the love of my life.” I say with all my heart. Although I wish things are different, I can’t change it anymore. I can only make sure that Harry knows that my love for him is my strength. He is my strength, my rock, my life. How can I possibly live without him?  
“I will always be with you.” Harry says as if he can read my mind.  
I shrug. I don’t know how to do it.  
“Please Louis, please give a bit of the love you have for me to yourself. Don’t punish yourself anymore, don’t live in guilt. Just live.” The last words are barely hearable. “So many people love you and wish you the best and I, I can’t be without you. I know we have been apart for a few years, but you were still in my heart and will always be. I love you with everything I can give and I need you to live. Please.”  
“I’ll try.” I say completely sincere. I can’t promise I’ll be alright, but I will try to change myself. “I’ll try to find myself again, but I will never be completely happy without you.” My last words are utterly bitter.  
“Can you please lay down with me?” He asks softly and with so much warmth for someone who is so extremely sick.  
I nod. Carefully, with pain written on his face, he moves a bit to the side so I can lie down beside him. I attentively lay down on my side next to him. My face in his neck, my body against his. He tangles his hands with mine and we lay there in silence.  
“You don’t have to be completely happy, please just love yourself again. And after this life, I will see you in the next life. Where we can be together again.”  
“You promise?” I say with hope in my voice.  
I want it to be like this forever. In Harry’s arms. In love.  
“I’ll see you in the afterlife; I can’t wait to be with you again. Forever.” Harry says with his last exhale of breath.


End file.
